Child in the Shadows
by coffeehigh
Summary: From a childhood spent overshadowed by Sirius' successes to an adult life slinking in Voldemort's shadow, it seems Regulus Black never had a chance to come into his own light. AU now


**Disclaimer: **This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

**Summary:** From a childhood spent overshadowed by Sirius's success to an adult life slinking in Voldemort's shadow, it seems Regulus Black never had a chance to come into his own light.

**AN:** A one-shot about Regulus Black's thoughts on his relationship with Sirius, written in Regulus' POV. I wrote parts of this hoping to add it in my WIP- Lonely Choices. However, there's no need to read Lonely Choices to understand this. Like or dislike, please review.

**Child in the Shadows**

The most important things were the ones we don't talk about.

I remember when I was nine and he was ten, we used to play Quidditch nearly everyday in the yard behind the house. A two man Quidditch match, which consisted of trying to shoot the quaffle into the apple crates Sirius had nicked from the elves in the kitchen, did not require much space. The argument over who would go first was always settled with a heads or tails using a sickle. Sirius always went first. (I learned later in Hogwarts that he used to charm the coins when I saw him perform the trick on a first year Gryffindor.)

He would take the quaffle as far out as our backyard allowed, advance on me menacingly, then would trick me into going left, leaving the crates open for a shot.

Sirius always won our Quidditch matches while I struggled to keep the difference between our scores respectable. Only later, when I saw Sirius play Quidditch did I realize that Sirius used to go easy on me. I had mentioned it in passing one time over the years. The arrogant bugger merely shrugged and said that he was older than me and it was only natural that he spotted me some points.

That made me angry. I wished that he would look at me as his equal, not his younger brother.

At eleven, he was different. He came home from school with tales of his friends, of how they sneaked off into the kitchens or how they pulled this prank or that. I told him that it was impossible for him to have cool friends in Gryffindor since all the cool people were in Slytherin. Sirius merely laughed, cuffed me in the chin and ruffled my hair.

"You'll understand when you start Hogwarts in the fall." He offered as an unsatisfactory explanation.

Hogwarts, it seemed, was something I couldn't understand just yet and Quidditch matches in the yard were now kids stuff.

_So what._ I used to think. _I'll start Hogwarts soon then I'll know what he was talking about. It won't be a mystery. And we'll be equal then. Besides, I'll be in Slytherin while he would be stuck in stinking Gryffindor._

Slytherin was where all Blacks were sorted into. Ma emphasized that the summer before Sirius went to Hogwarts. When the Sirius' letter came telling us where he had been sorted, my mother screamed at the Old Black Headmaster's portrait while my father cleaned a bottle of Firewhiskey.

The summer after Sirius' first year at Hogwarts marked the beginning of the war between him and my parents. Sirius spent most of that summer locked in his room, coming out only for meals and for the owl (on the sly) when he sent letters to his friends. He had tried to ask my parents if he could meet his friends in Diagon Alley, which started another fight. Only later did I understand my mother's indignation and my father's anger at his choice of friends- the weak one, the muggle lover and the werewolf.

I tried once again to invite him to play Quidditch, but he said no. We were only a year apart but the bugger thought that he was better than me.

So I told mother about him using the owl to send letters to his friends and endured the remainder of the summer with him throwing nasty looks at me.

* * *

In my first year, a second year Ravenclaw (I've forgotten his name) used to pick on some of us from Slytherin, charming our bags to burst open at the seams and spelling our ink bottles to spill. I had spent a lot of my time planning the safest route between classes- the one which avoided the most number of people. 

Then all of a sudden it stopped.

I heard that somebody charmed the Ravenclaw showers to spew ink.

Suspecting Sirius, I searched for my brother to discuss with him his high-handed defense. I found him in the library hanging out with those muggle-loving Gryffindors. I knew he barely studied for anything, which made the library hangout suspicious. The fat one clammed up immediately. The sickly one eyed me warily. The muggle lover nudged Sirius and gave him a look. But my brother calmly moved whatever book they were looking at into his bag. He instructed me to meet him later by the painting of the pears then told me to scram.

It turned out the painting was a way to get into the kitchens and the elves were always gracious to students regardless of the time of the night.

Having eaten our fill of hot chocolate and pasties, Sirius' tongue got looser and I've lost the urge to argue. There was no mention of the Ravenclaw. Sirius did not bring it up and I did not dare to. Instead, we talked about Quidditch.

It was one of the few, rare, decent conversations we've had.

But that was how we were- the most important things were the ones we don't talk about.

After that year and during all of the succeeding summers, we had an unspoken and uneasy truce. I never told mother whenever he used the owl to send letters to his friends and he pulled a few favors for me. (The knowledge about the Hogwarts' kitchens had earned me a few points with my dates later on.) Although once in a while during the slow days when Sirius was feeling solicitous, we would play magical duels. Apparently since I had already started Hogwarts, I was his equal once again.

Yet, the moment we stepped on Hogwarts grounds, he was again a Gryffindor and I was a Slytherin. For the remainder of our schooling, we nodded grudgingly at each other along corridors or more often we simply ignored each other. After that meeting in the kitchen, we never associated with each other in Hogwarts that way again.

* * *

When I was fifteen and Sirius was sixteen, summer began with a magnificent row between him and my parents. My mother believed that there was a chance for Sirius to redeem himself and encouraged him to attend the party the Malfoy's were hosting and play nice. Lucius had already invited me on the train ride home and I was looking forward to going. Sirius wasn't of the same opinion and was quite vocal about it. The argument ended the same way as all their other arguments had in the past, with Sirius locking himself in his room and my parents getting hysterical for an hour then returning to the table as if nothing ever happened. I wished back then that we could have a decent meal, like we did when we were very young. But in retrospect, even in our childhood, our meals were rarely decent. Sirius and I used to argue at the table a lot, petty squabbles over who won whichever game we were playing that afternoon. Sirius always did win, and mother and father still favored him then. But I preferred that over this strange war. 

That night, while preparing for bed, I could hear Sirius moving about in his room next door but I ignored it. Sirius was always moving around, planning pranks.

Then I heard him try to open his door quietly, a near impossibility in our old, creaky house which made me suspicious. I followed him downstairs as he went to the front door.

I sat there, in the darkened hallway, next to the troll leg umbrella stand, listening to him undo the wards with the same unconscious confidence he used to face life. I watched for half an hour as he tried to outwit my father's charms.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had called out to him, but I didn't know what to say.

_Take me with you._

I think not. I couldn't leave mother and father. That would disgrace them and the Black name. And name is important, ask any Slytherin. More important than anything. Besides, he would most likely stay with the Potter's, the biggest bunch of blood traitors I've ever seen.

_Why?_

But I knew why. The last time Sirius and my mother had seen eye to eye on things was when he was eight. The Black Pride had always been thicker than blood.

_How come you never talk to me anymore?_

Maybe that was what I really wanted to say. But the most important things were the ones we don't talk about. So I stayed there, mute.

The next morning, mother found Sirius's arrogant note written in his assured hand, saying he was glad to be rid of this family. The ruckus that ensued shook the rafters and woke the portraits. I heard the Old Black Headmaster argue with Dumbledore for an hour, blaming the headmaster for everything from the dilution of the pureblood race to the insolent behavior of the Black's heir apparent.

Heir apparent. Suddenly, with the loss of a choice, by default, that became me.

I remember clearly the scent of burning silk as mother blasted a hole through the tapestry. On the official record, Sirius Black was no more. It was a day of triumph, or it should have been, because for the first time, I was no longer the child in Sirius's shadow. I was their only son, their beloved.

* * *

When Sirius graduated, mother and father did not come to see him. I thought about talking to him, but I saw that he was being congratulated by the parents of his friends- even the muggle mother of the werewolf. 

On the trip back, I wondered if I should go to his compartment, but Potter and the rest would be there, and I knew Sirius and his gang disliked being bothered. So I just read my book. Lucius and Snape joined me, talked about their plans regarding the Dark Lord and by the end of the trip, I had forgotten about the fact that since Sirius wasn't going back to Hogwarts, I would probably not see him again.

Near the end of summer, while buying my books in Diagon Alley, I spotted Sirius- same arrogant gait, same maniacal laugh, same over confident bearing. He even dared wearing muggle clothes in the middle of Wizarding London. He was three stores down and I did not want to call out to him (Mum would have a fit) so I started in his direction. But the prat wasn't planning on staying and headed for the Leaky Cauldron and out muggle London. I tried catching up to him, but his strides were longer than mine and I certainly did not want to call out. Everywhere, muggles were looking at me, at my robes. The idiots didn't understand that I could blow their heads out if I wanted to with a simple flick of the wrist. They kept on staring, ignoring Sirius but looking at me, their expressions curious. I couldn't stand it, so I turned back.

The next time I saw him, was at a bar and the meeting had been arranged ahead of time. My graduation had been fifteen days before that; I had moved out of Grimmauld Place ten days earlier and the note from Sirius was the first mail I had ever received in my new address.

He invited me for drinks and offered to buy.

"It's the first time I've seen you since Hogwarts. You look good." He had said.

"You look like shite." I replied. I wasn't about to let him know that I had seen him in Diagon Alley the summer before.

He merely laughed and it annoyed me. I became determined not to be drunk under the table.

At that time, I had thought that meeting him was a stupid idea, that we wouldn't have enough in us to be civil. But talk about family, his leaving and if I was already a Death Eater were purposely avoided. Instead, as the alcohol flowed, we talked about which of the pro teams had the best seeker and who had the best boobs in Hogwarts. I had a strange thought then, that perhaps if we weren't brothers we could have been friends.

I wanted to ask him how come he believed what he believed. Why can't he just make our parents happy? I had wanted to ask him how come he never came back for me, but I guess that was a stupid question. Besides, I decided in the many times I had thought it over that I wouldn't have gone. I was the heir. I was the best son.

I saw Sirius intermittently after that, but our words were usually harsh. In the company of others, we were at war. The other times I saw him was through a mask and hood. We had dueled several times. Sometimes, I would be the one to turn away. Other times, it would be he who disapparated first.

I always wondered if he ever knew.

Voldemort promised us power, if we followed him, but as the missions increased, I had pondered if we were just being used. He never went on the missions and most of his plans wouldn't have been accomplished without us Death Eaters. Sure, he was the only one with the balls to put the muggles in their place. But he's a halfblood. And I am a Black, a pureblood, practically wizarding royalty- the Black heir. What kind of power would the Dark Lord give us? What kind of power does one have when one calls a misshapen halfblood, master?

* * *

The order had been simple, concocted by Voldemort and delivered by Cousin Bella. 

There was a need to prove my loyalty to the Dark Lord and what better way to ensure my loyalty to the brotherhood of the Death Eaters than to destroy the only shameful part of my heritage.

_There is no such thing as family,_ Bella had said. _There is only blood and death and our position in the Wizarding race._

But that's where she was wrong. I am a Black.

They caught up with me, but not before I was able to hide the amulet. I wish I could tell Sirius about it, but in our last conversation, I had turned down his offer of asylum.

There was no protection for me then and there is none now. Had I accepted, I would have placed what he was fighting for in danger as well.

He's a Gryffindor, a man of convictions- although of very predictable and admittedly boring beliefs. And I'm a Slytherin. My only conviction lies in the safety of my hide and in the value of cunning. However, there are a few things I do believe in as well. Did I believe in equality among muggles and wizards? No, not really. Five hundred years of Black blood flows through my veins and a simple change of sides isn't enough to alter the privilege that goes with that. But I do believe in peace, and a time for brothers to play Quidditch with each other without the fear of the Dark Mark floating above their house. Slytherins, aside from the worse of them, value their family just the same.

So I am here, in the middle of a revel, quite similar to all the other revels of the past. Except this time, it's me instead of some puny muggle in the middle. They are asking me to kneel in the center of the circle, first with a command. I ignore them. They ask me again, this time with a spell. I fight the spell, willing myself to stand. They ask again, with pain. I fall. But each time, I pick myself up and stand. The flash of green would come soon, and everything would be easier. There would be no need to stand, but while I can, I do.

I am a Black.

For the first time, I'm no longer the child in the shadow. I'm stepping out into my own light.

Maybe, after all those years, Sirius would be proud of me.

The most important things are the ones we don't talk about.

And there is no way to tell him now.


End file.
